


Could I Be Enough?

by pipsandpegs



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Eliza deserved better, post Reynolds Pamphlet but pre Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-16 03:56:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10563204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipsandpegs/pseuds/pipsandpegs
Summary: Alexander comes home after publishing The Reynolds Pamphlet.





	

Eliza has already sent the children upstairs when he arrives.

He faces her with eyes full of remorse, and she knows he has a million different apologies for her ready to spill from his lips that he's crafted and woven in his head since his first meeting with Maria. Long, flowery speeches professing his undying love for Eliza, and only Eliza, how Maria cannot compare to his dear Eliza, how Eliza is the only one that he has room in his heart for. Eliza, Eliza, Eliza, Eliza.  
If only he had thought of her before he brought Maria into their bed. 

His eyes are searching, calculating, his mind twisting and turning at unimaginable speeds. But there is no room for apologies, he knows, and his eyes lock onto hers.

"I love you, Eliza."

His words are piercing. She flinches, her face twisting into a look of anguish, and Alexander breaks. His breath shudders as he rushes towards her, reaching out a hand to grip her arm but she moves back, daring him to move towards her again. Her eyes are dour, but deep inside her soul is burning with such a ferocity that he’s taken aback. His mouth hangs open, as if he wants – needs – to say something, but he can’t.

Alexander notices the piles and piles of letters scattered on the couch, the chairs, the floor, weathered by the years they’ve been read and reread, kept inside a box under lock and key. Some have stains that he can only assume are from tears; some dried, faded into the yellow parchment, back from when he had built castles, palaces, cathedrals out of paragraphs. Others were fresh, beginning to settle as a painful reminder of the wounds Alexander had created instead.

The pang of guilt that hits him soon after nearly knocks him down, and he chokes back a sob. The reality of what he’s done begins to sink in. He can see Eliza remain still, becoming more rigid as he struggles to not break down at her feet, begging for her to forgive him for what he has done to her. She’s staring at him, suffocating him with the slight pull downwards of her lips and the redness of her eyes. There’s a stiff silence in the air, drowning him and gripping him with such venom he’s afraid to break it, lest it consume him.

“I trusted you, Alexander,” she finally spits out the words with vehemence, her fingers digging into her arms as she looks away. She ignores the hot tears finally spilling from her eyes.

His hand shakes as he reaches out and cups her cheek, and she continues to avert her gaze, but she’s shaking – _oh god, is she shaking_ – and she wants to crumble into his arms and let him piece her back together again. She longs to feel him touch her with all the care and tenderness he hides and she knows he possesses but has not known her in years. She needs to feel him love her with all the fire and passion she sees in his eyes but only shines when he’s not looking at her.

But she doesn’t.


End file.
